


Journey to Vesuvius

by Odalis88



Series: Musings [1]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: Vengeance
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odalis88/pseuds/Odalis88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agron's thoughts as he leads the rebels to Vesuvius.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Journey to Vesuvius

Shafts of sunlight break through the leaves of the forest canopy above, creating irregular patches of illumination to shine on us as we walk to Vesuvius. Twenty head, moving as a single organism, follow me. I try to feel gratification at the knowledge that these lives are temporarily spared as a result of my protests and actions.

Instead, a hollow sensation fills me because I could think of naught but those I had left behind. 

_Abandoned._

No, I had made the right choice. Were I in Naevia’s position, I would sooner die than tolerate others laying down their precious lives to save mine. It was selfish, inhumanly so, to ask that of others. I do not regret my decision not to die, nor allow countless others to perish in vain attempt on the mines. 

Yet my remorse stems from an even more selfish desire: leaving absent effort to persuade the Syrian body slave to accompany us. 

I scowl and clench my jaw at the remembered impulse to heave his lithe frame over my shoulder and carry him away from certain death. Why did I feel this way? _How_ could I feel this way after the gods had schooled me in the dangers caring for another places you in? It hurt only that much worse when loved ones were ripped from your arms. 

For an instant, I saw Duro’s face behind my closed eyelids.

At the villa, it had seemed so important to respect his choice. It is this that I cling to as I lead the rebels, those who wish to live, to the mountain.

I am not Nasir’s dominus and have no place in ordering him to guard his life with greater care. But I want to possess the privilege to request it of him. I want to kindle the type of camaraderie where my acting on protective instincts would not be inappropriate. 

The longer we walk, the greater my yearning grows to turn around and somehow join Spartacus in his foolish journey to the mines. Only obligation to those I lead from this very fate keeps me from this compulsion. Attempts to erase my mind of thoughts of Nasir only aid in conjuring images of what he might be enduring as I walk in relative safety. 

I expect gaining entrance to the mines is a simple endeavor compared to the task of leaving it. Would they find Naevia before soldiers discovered their presence? What if they had been exposed on the journey? They numbered so few that I shudder to imagine how they might fare against a sizable Roman force. I do not worry so much for the gladiators, but Nasir does not yet possessed the training required to best a large number of opponents, especially if he were weary or wounded. 

My hand clenches involuntarily on my sword. What would happen if that were his fate? To be injured there? If he no longer possessed the ability to walk absent the aid of another, would any of the remaining rebels risk their own lives to protect him? Spartacus would, of that I have no doubt. However, he was but one man. I could not depend on the others should the situation demand it.

Scenes where Roman soldiers bested Nasir flash through my mind. It makes me wish I had expended more effort and attention in his fight training. 

As we make camp for the night, the atmosphere is anxious, yet mutedly joyous. I suffer a restless sleep despite the soft conversations of the content rebels surrounding me. I felt as on edge, as though just out of ear shot. a legion of Romans lurked to slaughter us. 

Time does not ease my worry. After we reach our intended destination, I place myself on constant alert for any sign that Spartacus and his company had endured and are coming to reunite our number. Another day passes and my uneasiness doubles. 

In the dawn of the fourth day, the gods surely answer my prayers as I glimpse the unmistakable shape of Spartacus through the early morning mist. My heart clenches when I count how few of them have returned, yet I see Nasir slumped against the trunk of a tree.

I offered Spartacus a brief salutation before making haste to kneel at Nasir’s side. He is returned to me.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure if I should write more little ficlets like this or not, attempting to get into the character's heads. Let me know! I won't make a huge effort if this is something that people don't enjoy along with me.


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